Along the way
by ThereGoestheFear
Summary: Elena, worried for Stefan, can't seem to sleep. She might find comfort in an unlikely source. How did she come to care for Damon? One-Shot. Tie-in with "Blood Brothers" episode.


The rain continued to fall against the thin glass window. The water sounded less like pebbles now and more like needles against the shutters. _Sharp and angry_, Elena thought quietly. She pulled the blanket that rested around her shoulders up to her chin, and buried the side of her face into the pillow.

Rainstorms had always been something bittersweet to her. When she was younger she both loved and feared when the nighttime rain would wake her. It's accidental melodies pulled her mind into a state of infinite possibilities.

Sometimes she would imagine that she was on a boat in the middle of the ocean, caught in a hurricane whilst on her way to some undiscovered land. Other times she was a princess locked away in a tower, waiting for her prince to come rescue her from the raging storm that a wicked witch had cast upon her.

At this thought, Elena couldn't help but smile.

Usually instead of a prince, her father would come to check on her—only to find her singing under her breathe, blankets pulled up to the tip of her nose. But that was just as good, sometimes even better. After he found her she would tell him about the game that she was playing and he would sit there and listen with an engaged, patient expression. Usually he would offer to read her a book to help her fall asleep. With the rain pouring against her window, she would always accept him.

But tonight she knew that there would be no prince to come rescue her from the witch's power. How ironic for her beloved knight to finally have found her, only to be locked away in the basement on _this_ rainy night. Elena stared out at the darkness beyond the window. She knew all too well that her father would not be coming into the room to offer his ear or lend his voice to a book character. Yet, as needles continued to shoot at the boarding house from outside, and she lie alone in Stefan's bed, it was for Stefan's loneliness that she worried. Not her own.

Elena sat up in the bed and pulled the heavy blankets off of her. _I'll just check on him_, she decided, _it'll take two seconds_. She shifted her hips and planted her feet on the floor, careful so as not to step on the squeaky tell-tale floorboard that had waken Stefan up on a few occasions in the past. Because, she knew, that she wasn't the only one in this giant house tonight.

And this other person had infinitely better hearing than she had capacity to be stealthy.

* * *

...There was something about walking around a dark house at night; the only one awake, that managed to fill one with a sense of both anxiety and peace. Elena considered this notion as she wandered the seemingly never-ending hallway. The only light to guide her careful figure came from the moon, which spilled from the windows over the painting and tapestry filled walls. The rain was coming in less violently now. It had regressed into a steady trickle. Was the weather always so indecisive?

By the time she reached the stairs she had barely managed to avoid collisions with a wobbly vase, a stuffed wild cat of some kind, and what she swore was some cliché suit of armor. With the door she had been most careful when passing at a safe distance behind her, Elena made a rushed decent down the stairway.

In her blind attempt to reach the basement doorway before getting caught, Elena overlooked the lit fireplace that soaked the front sitting area in a dim orange. Also, the dark figure that lounged against the sofa, seemingly immersed in a book.

Or maybe she had just chosen to ignore it.

The lounging figure barely flinched. "Did you_ need_ something, Elena? A glass of water, perhaps? Someone to check under the bed for monsters?"

Elena stopped dead in her tracks. She turned hesitantly to meet his mock-concern expression. "Damon. I didn't see you there," she lied. Her voice was coated thickly with disappointment. She had gone through so much trouble _not_ to run into him.

Damon ignored her remark. "…Or _maybe _you just wanted a midnight snack. If so, the kitchen is the other way," he turned his eyes again to the book in his hand. "Good try though. I knew you were wandering around when you almost knocked over that vase in the hall upstairs. Be more carefully next time. Zachary had brought that back from Egypt. _Expensive_."

Elena rolled her eyes. "I'll sure try," she mumbled sarcastically. When Damon didn't say anything else, she continued in her predetermined direction.

"Elena?"

She spun around at her name. What was it about his voice that made it hard to just _keep on walking_? She decided that whatever it was, she could add it to the list of things she resented about him. "What, Damon?"

He didn't bother to look up at her, and yet she wondered if she was distracting him. He had yet to turn the page, after all. He couldn't have been that slow of a reader. "I would tell you not to go see my crazy, blood-deprived brother right now, but I just got to this great part in the book, so…"

_Subtle_, Elena thought. "Why should you _care_ if I want to go see Stefan? Weren't you the one who told me it was _my _job to care about him? God knows you won't." Her voice's alto seemed to kick up several notches toward the end, and her breath became more erratic in her frustration. Her glare was accusing, but somewhere in there was a smear of guilt.

At this, Damon turned up to look at her. His eyebrows were raised, his eyes dark. "God has nothing to do with it, honey. But the reason I highly suggest you don't go down there is because His Royal Broodiness is snoozing it up. You wouldn't want to disturb him, now would you?"

Elena's mouth almost curved up. "Really? He's sleeping?"

Damon rolled his eyes. "No, I was lying. He's really in there nibbling on his own arm and howling at the moon."

Elena smirked. "That's werewolves."

Damon turned away from her again. "That's sarcasm."

Elena almost laughed at that. For a moment she stood in the doorway, absentmindedly watching Damon turn pages in the tiny book every few seconds. She guessed that was his regular reading speed. Finally, she stepped away from beneath the doorway, making her way over to where Damon sat. If she wasn't going to check on Stefan, maybe his brother could use company instead. She was in a giving mood after all, and not even psychotic Damon could break it. "What are you reading?" she asked, taking a seat on the armchair across from him. The heat from the fireplace warmed her skin. She almost forgot there had been a hurricane raging outside.

Damon lifted the book so that she could see the tattered cover in the firelight.

"Moby Dick? Huh. I didn't have you pegged as a fiction reader," she paused, "Aren't you supposed to be obsessing over that Gilbert invention, or whatever?"

Damon propped up his head in the palm of his empty hand, his elbow digging into the armrest. "Well, if anyone can get me to take a break from my obsessive ways, its Herman Melville," he sighed, "There's irony in that... somewhere."

Elena smiled.

"Don't think I didn't see that," Damon murmured. He turned another page. "So, why is it you are wandering around a vampire's house in these odd hours of the morning? Let alone one that is a so-called self-serving-psychopath."

Elena folded her arms against her chest, ignoring the quiet bitterness in his voice. "I wanted to make sure Stefan was okay. That is why I'm staying here in the first place_, remember_?"

Damon rolled his eyes. "That's just adorable. Now, why are you_ awake_?"

Elena grew quiet, and turned her eyes toward the fire. "I couldn't sleep. Rain keeps me up," she finally mumbled. Her voice was tired, raspy.

Damon nodded as if he had already known that. There was a long stretch of silence now. Five minutes. Then ten. Elena wondered if he was going to say anything else. She considered just going back upstairs. The rain had died down now anyway.

She began to get up from the chair.

Damon looked up at her. Her dark eyes caught his gaze. She could see his own eyes more clearly now, with the fire's light so close. They really were a pretty shade of blue. _He_ didn't need to know that, though. For a moment she thought she saw something resembling concern in his other-wise neutral face.

"If you're hungry, I guess I could fix you up something in the kitchen—I think Zach had some raviolis or soup… or something. Not sure if it's any good anymore," he asked hesitantly, as if that was the right thing to say to this obviously nerve-shot teenage girl in front of him.

Elena was taken aback. But she noted the gesture. It were these moments that reminded her why she had felt so bad for him after the tomb fiasco, despite all the horrid things he had done up to and since then. These small gestures (far and few in-between) reminded her of the man who helped her put dinner dishes away in her kitchen that first night she had invited him in. He had opened up to her that first night, if even in a small way. If anyone asked what she thought of him back then, she might have answered sweet, if a bit damaged. It was funny how that had turned around so quickly. A few weeks ago she might even have admitted to hating him. Then he would say something uncharacteristically concerned and Elena could swear his personality disorder was giving her whiplash. She swallowed. "Oh, I'm not hungry. Thanks for offering though, Damon."

He shrugged as if he couldn't care less.

Even so, Elena took a seat again. He had tried to reach out. She had at least gathered that much. Even vampires got lonely. "Y'know, it's the rainy nights that I miss my dad the most. Both of them," Elena said thoughtfully, her eyes focused on the imprinted lettering of _Moby Dick_.

It remained quiet. He didn't know what to say to that. Last time he commented on her parental situation, she took offense. Elena figured that out enough, and so she accepted the silence for awhile.

Eventually though, she craved something different. "Read aloud," she said with a yawn.

Damon looked up, confused. "What?"

"Isn't that book any good?" she asked quietly.

Damon nodded, then smirked. "It's one of the _best_. The tale of vengeance and the consuming anger of a man toward a whale. It's genius. A spot on portrayal."

Elena furrowed her brows. "How is that good? It sounds terrible."

Damon turned and picked up another book that had been hidden by his side, beneath a cushion. "I have this one. It's mainly poetry though. Do you want to know why the caged bird sings?" he asked. His voice was amused. So were his eyes.

Looking over the cover, Elena shook her head. She brought up her legs from the floor and wrapped her thin arms around them. "Not really. Read me the story about the whale. I'm curious to hear if it can live up to the hype," she chirped decidedly. Elena closed her eyes, but her ears were open, waiting for his smooth voice to reach them.

While her eyes remained shut, Damon watched Elena's face. He tried to see someone different; if only for a flash of a second, he tried to see his Katherine. Katherine, the woman who he had loved as a mortal, and continued to care for as a love-sick immortal.

The one who left him, his blind passion, and his foolish self-entitlement alone in the dark for more than a century.

It didn't take long for him to realize that the beautiful and cruel face of the woman who seemingly abandoned him would not appear in the girl sitting across from him, the girl who had inexplicably claimed his increasing affection all those months ago; and somewhere deep down-his love. The trusting calm that was etched in Elena's face at that moment was completely and utterly her own. So finally he stopped searching for someone else. With a sad smile, Damon shifted his glance to the ink-filled pages.

"As you wish," he murmured to the waiting figure curled up in the chair.

Damon read carefully. He even made distinct voices for the different characters, which made Elena shamelessly laugh at one point. As the plot thickened Elena's eyes fluttered open to gather a look at her companion. His hair, black and messy, was pushed to the side as if by an anxious hand. He was worried. About what? Elena could only guess. For a second her thoughts flashed to Stefan, then Isobel, and finally Katherine. She shied away from the last two names and hoped that Damon's thoughts were on his brother instead. Something inside of her wanted him to just once be concerned for a person who actually cared about him in return...

Elena couldn't help but smile as Damon seemed to perfectly capture the passionate monologues of Captain Ahab. He didn't read like her father did and he was far off from the prince she had dreamed of as a child.

Very far off.

Yet somehow, if only for tonight, it was a vampire who silenced the storm raging around and inside of her.

And little did Elena know that, tonight, she silenced the vampire's storm as well.

* * *

The morning light poured into the room almost obnoxiously. It should be a crime for the sun to rise so_ early_. Elena reluctantly opened her eyes, turning her attention toward the window. The sun was too bright, too high in the sky. She had slept in longer than she wanted. Shit.

It wasn't until she pulled off the blankets that she had been carefully tucked under, and slid from the massive bed, that she realized she was in Stefan's room. Normally, this wasn't anything to be even slightly perplexed about. But she could have sworn she had fallen asleep in the armchair _downstairs_. She turned and looked at the bed, realizing that the blankets were tucked and folded almost too perfectly.

"Oh," she said to herself. He didn't have to do that. Considering her neck wasn't hurting from sleeping in an awkward position though, she felt somewhat grateful.

Elena put the thought aside, realizing she was already late for her scheduled check-in with Jenna. She pulled out her bag of clothes and put on the blouse and jeans that were the least wrinkled. Then she rushed into the bathroom to grab her toothbrush. Looking up from the ceramic sink, Elena was surprised to find a bright yellow sticky-note pressed up against the dull mirror. She pulled it off and read.

_Clothes downstairs._  
_Next time you use our laundry room don't just leave your crap in there._  
_I didn't not go to college just to end up _your_ maid._  
_Sincerely, the hotter brother  
_

"What an ass," Elena scoffed. She crumbled the note and tossed it into the wastebasket. Then she proceeded to get ready, soon after heading downstairs. In the day light she had a much easier way of maneuvering through the hallways.

When Elena finally reached the sitting room she was by no means surprised to see Damon leaning up against a desk, fiddling with the Gilbert invention. Neither bothered to say "good morning" to the other. There were too many unspoken responsibilities they both were dwelling on for today. Elena headed straight for her jeans. "Did you ever figure out what that is?" she asked with a sigh. Damon was completely engrossed; he didn't bother to look at her.

"Nope. Whatever it is, it doesn't work," he answered back calmly, quietly hiding his frustration.

Elena grabbed for her clothes. "Pearl didn't say anything else about it?"

"She thought she was stealing his vampire compass, but it was a pocket watch," he breathed in. "That Jonathan Gilbert was a _crazy _scientist-Have you spoken to your uncle lately?"

_Ugh_. Elena wasn't in the mood to talk about Uncle John. His having taken up residency in her home made it all the more easier to spend the night in a vampire's house. She'd take Damon's company over John's any day—and that was saying something. "I've been avoiding him. That and I've been here most nights."

"So you'll be here again tonight?" Damon's voice was draining of any indifference it had previously held.

If Elena didn't know better, she might have thought he sounded excited. She thought for a moment of Moby Dick. "Is that a problem?"

Finally, Damon turned around. His mouth was serious, but his eyes were playful. "Yes. You are a complete nuisance," he said with false conviction. For someone who got so easily bent out of shape when it came to the truth he had a bad habit of often saying the opposite of what he meant.

Elena only smirked, pulling her bag over her shoulder. "I'll see you later."

As she shut the front door behind her, Elena realized that she couldn't wait until she got to open it again.

A wave of guilt flooded her as she thought of Stefan. She shouldn't be excited about much, given the circumstances. Her boyfriend was _locked in the basement_ for crying out loud. So she shifted her thoughts to Stefan. She wondered if he would drink the animal blood Damon had collected for him earlier the evening before.

She worried.

Yet, as she climbed into her car, an irrational part of her was curious as to whether there would be another rainstorm tonight. Even worse, there was a part of her that hoped there would be. _If only so I can figure out what happens to Ahab_, she decided.

She wished that she really believed that.

As her car pulled out from the driveway, Elena reluctantly reminded herself that what she was feeling resembled the craving of a friend's company. It wasn't so irrational considering the current situation she was facing with Stefan. Among other things.

But this only made Elena more frustrated. Where along the line had selfish, homicidal Damon become her _friend_? Somewhere in the back of her mind, she searched for the answer.

It might have been on the return trip from Georgia, where they took turns antagonizing each other over what radio station they would stick to—before finally agreeing on an oldies station.  
Maybe it was after he helped her when Stefan was being tortured by the tomb vampires. Perhaps it was at the Miss Mystic Falls party. Though, part of her shied away from remembering the dance. If only because when she should have felt cheated for not sharing that moment with Stefan, she instead had felt some strange rush of affection for the man who saved her from looking like an idiot in front of half the town. Among other reasons. Maybe, though, it had been when he read aloud to her, his voice drowning out the anxiety that constantly invaded her thoughts for the first time in a long time.  
_Maybe_, she decided, _it doesn't matter when it happened_.

What _was_ significant was that somewhere along the way Elena found herself _caring_ about what happened to Damon Salvatore.

And now there really was no going back.

* * *

**A/N**: So, this takes place before/during episode 20, "Blood Brothers". In case you missed that ;) Either way, this is my first Vampire Diaries fic. I was hesitant to write it at first, but ended up giving in when the possibilities of Damon/Elena bonding arose. While watching the episode, I couldn't help wondering what went on with those two staying under the same roof. I imagine snarky banter and several rounds of Scrabble. Oh, and that Stefan drama too.

Thanks for reading! Don't hesitate to give your feedback. It's always appreciated.


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